And not the color blue. Blue, the Dog, died last Monday.
I’m huddled away in my man cave, inspired by a fresh night’s sleep to write my cousin. A fresh cup of coffee in my hand. Justin followed me down the stairs, curious to see what I’m doing. So while I glance at my emails, Justin notices a wrapper for Cadbury Mini Eggs–the ones that were on sale after Easter. He says, “Hey, Mini Eggs!” with a tone to imply I’d been holding out on him. I respond, “The same ones I left you and your Sister for an after-school snack earlier this week.” Justin pauses for a second. Looking contemplative he says, “Yes, the ones we ate on the day that Blue died.”
Blue was my Brother-in-law’s dog. He died this last week, and while I was at work, my Wife, Daughter, and Son had gone to the Vet-Hospital where Blue spent his last day. Justin’s Uncle had invited the family to come down and say goodbye. It was an emotional thing for my kids, more than I had realized. For years the kids had helped take care of Blue when my Brother-in-Law and family were away. During that time, I hadn’t noted the bond that developed between my kids and Blue.
It makes me wonder at how things that get linked up in our memory. It’s like we spend all these energies to create an big events or important days, and yet the stories that we remember in our lives end up getting connected to the things we don’t expect. Often these things are trivial, secondary, or seemingly insignificant. Maybe a song, or a scent, or some article of clothing. Today, it was Eggs.
So in my mind, I anticipate that next Easter, Cadbury MiniEggs will remind me about Justin’s sadness towards Blue’s death.